


More Prompts for Captain Canary!

by FireSoul



Series: FireSoul's Tumblr Prompts! [21]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireSoul/pseuds/FireSoul
Summary: After completing 100 prompts for Captain Canary here are some more!
Relationships: Sara Lance/Leonard Snart
Series: FireSoul's Tumblr Prompts! [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/924543
Comments: 65
Kudos: 46





	1. The Lips of an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> crypticbeliever123 asked for Captain Canary + "You look like an angel."

He’s dying.

Leonard knows he’s dying; he has for a few hours now. Maybe days. Weeks? Not years, no, not years; maybe not even weeks. Oh, he’s been in this shitty situation for months and maybe years, but he hasn’t been actively dying up until some more recent point.

Whenever that was, consciousness comes and goes lately.

He tries to breathe, to focus on the world around him. He breathes in through his nose and as a result finds himself violently coughing. His shoulders shake, and he gags on something wet foul tasting in his mouth, the scent of copper filling his nostrils and if he weren’t so busy coughing he would groan. He does, eventually. He knows its blood without opening his eyes, which is fine, because he doesn’t have the strength anymore to try opening his eyes.

He tries to breathe again, and this time is a little more successful. His entire body still shudders when he lets the breath out, and his lungs burn when he takes another one in, but there is no coughing this time.

He has to admit, of all the ways he ever considered his life would end, he never thought it would be like this.

He always figured however he went out it would be quick. Maybe his old man would finally tip over the edge, or Mick would. He thought he might catch a cop on an off day and get a bullet in the chest. As a kid he thought he might get locked up too far from Mick and that shiv wouldn’t be stopped the second time around. As an adult he thought Lisa might get herself into some kid of trouble and he’d find himself seeing red, and the guy would be too much for him to handle without a plan.

Lisa.

He whimpers at the thought of her. He’s been trying not to think about her lately and what she must be going through, thinking he’ s dead. At first he had been holding onto the hope that he would get himself out of here, or the team would do it, and he would be able to go back to her. Mick would never let him blow himself up and then not tell Lisa what happened, so he knows she thinks he’s dead. His plan was to hug her. His plan was to hold her close and promise her a million times over he was so sorry for leaving her like that. His plan… His plan…

“Throw away the plan.” He mumbles, so quiet he barely hears the echo of the words. He tries to groan again, some confirmation to himself that he is still alive, and all he gets for his efforts is more coughing.

No, he never thought he would go out like this.

No matter how far off the rails his life went, he always had one ultimate plan; he was going to be remembered.

He had always operated under the mindset that he would be remembered as a crook, and a damn good one at that. Then the Legends happened. Rip Hunter and his mission happened. Sar… He doesn’t want to think about her, but she happened. Things changed, and he blew himself up to save free will. If he knows anything about the Legends he knows they – Raymond – would’ve called him a hero. That’s fine, in fact it pulls a tiny smile to his mouth. Leonard Snart, remembered as a hero.

He sighs, the breath shakier than the last.

He hasn’t been remembered.

The Oculus blew, but he didn’t. He was about to, but then there was a feeling of static all around him and a man in a yellow suit.

Thawne.

Eobard Thawne saved him, and then locked him up here, in the depths of the Vanishing Point. He called him an insurance policy.

“Just in case 2014 doesn’t work out.”

Leonard hadn’t known what that meant – he still doesn’t – but thinking about it makes his stomach twist.

Or, maybe that’s the hunger.

It’s been weeks since he’s heard so much as a peep from anywhere in this place, much less Thawne or one of his lackeys brought him any food or water. Something happened, the Legends or Barry or whoever fought Thawne and his whack-job crew must’ve won, and they never knew he was here.

Leonard Snart, forgotten.

All of a sudden he thinks he hears footsteps coming and if he had the strength he would laugh at himself. He’s hearing things now, summoned by his thoughts. Great, death can’t be far off now.

He thinks he hears the creak of a door, and the hope it instills almost feels like enough to motivate his eyes to open.

But he can’t handle that disappointment.

He’ll be looking at a dark, empty room, and despite what his senses are telling him he knows there is no person standing in front of-

“Leonard.”

He wants to cry.

Her voice, it sounds so real. Full of concern and tears, almost identical to how it sounded when she told him she wouldn’t leave him behind, right before he made her do it anyway.

Almost identical, with the tiny exception of a trace of hope.

Maybe that’s why he forces his eyes open. He knows… He knows she isn’t real. She’s a delusion. But… What if… If she might be real, if there is even the tiniest chance, then he can’t risk disappointing her.

He wants to laugh when he opens his eyes, and he thinks he does smile. There she is, crouching in front of him and looking down with tears shining in her eyes. She’s dressed all in white, with a light shining behind her like a crown around the back of her head.

“You look like an angel.” He manages to whisper, and if he had the strength to jump he would, because she _touches_ him.

She touches him, and he feels it.

God, he really is dead isn’t he?

She looks away from him, she says something, be he doesn’t hear whatever it is. The temptation of unconsciousness is overpowering, he has no choice but to give in.

As he slips under one final thought manages to cross his mind; she was wrong.

She said dying felt lonely, like everyone she loved was a million miles away.

For weeks he’s been thinking about that and how painfully right she was, but now? It feels like she’s right here with him.

* * *

“Come on Crook, rise and shine.”

His eyes are still closed but he can feel his brow furrowing, as well as his thoughts and senses getting clearer.

He isn’t dead.

Right?

Opening his eyes is much easier this time, though he isn’t sure if that should signal something good or something bad. Despite his eyes opening he can’t see much at first due to the bright light that forces him to close his eyes again. Somewhere in his mind he realizes that the light isn’t _that_ bright, but he hasn’t seen light in somewhere between weeks and years.

“Gideon, dim the lights.”

His entire body freezes.

That voice, her voice, it’s real.

He opens his eyes again, and this time he only has to blink to adjust to the light, as it’s much lower than it was a moment ago.

But it’s still bright enough he can see her.

She’s next to him, her eyes about on level with his so at least one of them sitting down. Both of them, actually, he realizes upon further inspection. They’re in the med bay of the Waverider and he’s laid up in one of the chairs while she’s on a stool next to him.

He opens his mouth to speak, to ask how, but he starts coughing instead. His whole body lurches with the movement, his senses focused entirely on it to the point he doesn’t notice Sara getting up and retrieving a glass of water until the spell has mostly passed and he’s grimacing at the sight of fresh red droplets joining the smattering of old and dried ones on his shirt.

“It’ll stop soon.” She comments as she hands him the water, one hand on his shoulder. “Gideon said you have bronchitis, and the blood is from coughing while your throat was so dry. We’ve got you on fluids, Gideon says the infection should clear up in a few days.”

He nods, though frankly he is almost too caught up in the feeling of the cool water slipping down his throat to care about anything she’s saying. The water tastes so good. He drains the glass sooner than he would like and she smirks as she takes it back from him.

“Pace yourself.” She warns him, “You don’t want to make yourself sick.”

He nods, and she returns to the sink and refills the glass. He drinks it slower this time, though it’s a force. He only lets himself drink half the glass and then he hands it back to her. She looks at him for a moment, as though she’s waiting for him to change his mind, but eventually she sets the glass aside on the pivoting tray attached to the side of the chair. She sits back on her stool, and for a moment it’s quiet.

“How long?” He finally asks, his voice still raspy and he has to clear his throat, but he doesn’t launch into a coughing fit this time.

“Over a year.” She tells him. “Things are… Things are a little different now.” She sighs, “We killed Savage, so Kendra and Carter left. Rip left too, after he had been missing for a while. He’s started this thing called The Time Bureau, he impounded the Waverider for a little while, we just stole her back the other day and now…”

She trails off, looking down at her hands in her lap like they might suddenly give her the words she’s looking for.

“It’s a long story.” She settles on.

“Sounds like it.” He says, “And it doesn’t sound like anything good.”

He gives that a moment, waits to see if she’s going to say anything more, and when she doesn’t he presses on.

“What were you doing at The Vanishing Point?”

“Rip had been held there.” She tells him, and the look she gives him is a silent question. Did he know? Were they held together?

He didn’t know, and she must see that on his face.

“After we got him back he… I mean, he was Rip but… I don’t know. He seemed proud of us. Then he turned around and created the Time Bureau to replace us?”

“It didn’t feel right.” He supplies and she shakes her head.

“We wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything there left behind by The Legion, or worse anything Rip might be hiding.”

She looks to him then with a whole new question in her eyes.

“Please don’t tell me-”

“No.” He promises before she can finish. “It was Thawne.”

She nods, and that’s something at least.

“I’m sorry.” She eventually says. “We should’ve looked harder.”

“Sure.” He scoffs, “And what would you have done when Thawne caught you snooping around his hideout?”

She shrugs, “At least we might have found you.”

“You did find me.” He insists, “When there was no one there to stop you. I’m alive, I think.”

She chuckles at that, “You’re alive Crook, don’t worry.”

“You’re sure?” He teases.

“I’m sure.” She says, “Even though you mistook me for an angel.”

“I said that out loud?” He asks, smirking.

“You did.” She confirms, “And Ray already gushed about it to Mick, so good luck living it down.”

He hums, if that’s the price he has to pay for living, never being allowed to forget he called Sara an angel, he’s more than willing.

“Captain.” Gideon’s voice suddenly interrupts the moment, and Sara glances up at the ceiling. “You have an incoming message from 2017.”

“Coming Gideon.” She answers, and Leonard raises his eyebrows.

“I’ll explain later.” She laughs as she rises to her feet. “For now you get some rest.”

Before she goes she bends down and presses a kiss to his cheek, smirking at the surprise on his face when she pulls away.

“Welcome back, Leonard.”


	2. I Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crypticbeliever123 asked for Captain Canary + "You were lonely and needed someone to lean on. I get it." and "I'm not trying to be your friend, I'm trying to fuck you."

Sara is not fine.

After a day of threatening their incompetent captain they finally got him to compromise with Sara. He’s standing firm on his claim that they can’t change what happened to Laurel, but they at least got him to bring Sara back to the day of her funeral. She’d gone with Ray, as he had known Laurel too. Leonard had thought about offering to go but it had felt like too much of an overstep. Things between them have been at a standstill since he almost died blowing up The Oculus. Before going in there he had asked her about the future, and then that offer came dangerously close to being yanked out from under them. Maybe they could’ve talked about it, but then she found out her sister died in the time they’ve been away on the mission, and he wasn’t about to bring up his stupid feelings while she’s dealing with that.

Her sister is dead. She’d had murder in her eyes when she confronted Rip about it. She barely said a word after the mission with Savage, and had been cold and curt in what she did say when he and Raymond convinced Hunter into taking them back to the funeral. She is not fine.

He can’t seriously be the only one not buying that lie.

They’re sitting on his bed like they would on any other night. They’re playing Gin, sitting cross-legged with the pile between them. Leonard keeps sneaking glances at Sara, more so than usual. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting from her; it isn’t like she’s the type to spontaneously break down. Still… He isn’t sold on Raymond’s claim that the funeral gave her enough closure to move on with her life. Not this fast, not when he knows how deep her love for her sister runs.

At some point she adjusts her position, stretching out her legs on either side of the pile between them and her toes brush up against his knees. He glances up, and doing so has his eyes meeting hers, then they both turn their attentions back to their cards without a word. This isn’t the first time they’ve had some form of casual physical contact during one of their games.

The game ends soon after, he wins, and he starts to gather up the pile to shuffle again for a second game.

“You wanna watch a movie?” She asks, and it catches him a little off guard.

He looks up at her, watches her watch him for an answer. She doesn’t look overly tired, and he wonders if he missed the signs of her losing interest throughout their game. He supposes it doesn’t matter much. She isn’t going to play another game, so he can either watch a movie or send her back to her room and after today, and maybe he’s being over cautious, but he doesn’t really like the idea of her being alone.

“Sure.”

They get comfortable leaned against the back wall behind his bed, sitting side bye side with their legs outstretched and their shoulders pressed lightly together. Normal for them.

After scrolling through some of the options in Gideon’s database they decide on _We’re the Millers,_ something with enough substance to hold both their interests if they want, but also mindless enough that they can stop paying attention at any time.

They’re only at Jennifer Aniston’s first stripper routine when Sara uncrosses her ankles and knocks her foot against his, and by the start of the second one only a few minutes later she’s crossed her whole leg over his.

“Can I help you Assassin?” He asks, and she shrugs, and he can’t but notice that she is leaning against his side much more at the end of that action than she was before.

“Just thinking.”

He scoffs, “What about?”

She shrugs again, and this time she leans her head into his shoulder.

“We do this a lot.” She muses, “Card games and movie nights.”

“We do.” He agrees, “That’s what friends do.”

They had dimmed the lights for the movie, but the screen on the opposite wall lights up the room more than well enough for him to see her roll her eyes.

“Come on Len.” She scoffs, “You and me are not friends.”

She says it with so much assurance, he finds himself looking down at her and that proves to be a big mistake.

There’s something in her eyes, a want, a need, and the next thing he knows she’s bringing her other leg over and straddling his lap.

He swallows; his hands find her hips automatically. Soon her mouth his on his, and God, she tastes better than he ever thought she would.

“I’m not trying to be your friend.” She murmurs between kisses, and she grinds her hips down on him. “I’m trying to fuck you.”

He moans into her kiss, his fingers splaying across her hips while his lips work on matching hers.

Somewhere in his brain, however, he still has the sense to kick himself. This isn’t right. Maybe it could be, if they weren’t in such an in-between place right now. If they were just friends then he could easily let her fuck him as a distraction from her grief, and if they had actually talked about what happened before the Oculus and were properly a thing then he would also be more than willing to oblige her. But this isn’t how they should start.

So when she rolls her hips against him again he forces himself to pull back from her kiss.

“I don’t want to be your friend either.” He says, looking up and finding her eyes. “You know what I want.”

It’s like a bucket of cold water.

She stops, seeming to come back to herself out of some spell. For a moment he thinks she’s going to climb off him and they’ll be awkwardly watching another twenty minutes of _We’re the Millers_ before she uses exhaustion as an excuse to slink away. But then she blinks away the tears and brings a hand up to cradle his jaw. She leans in and presses a different kind of kiss to his lips. It’s soft, tender, with no trace of her tongue and when she pulls back it’s by little more than a fraction of an inch he can still feel her breath warm on his face.

“I want that too.”

He searches her face for some sign that she’s lying, or at the very least only telling him what he wants to hear, but he can’t find any.

Then she kisses him again, and he is gone.

* * *

Waking up in the morning Sara feels two things. The first is oddly well rested, and then she remembers last night and why she’s slept so good and a knot forms in her stomach.

She rolls from her side to her back, effectively disturbing and waking Leonard next to her.

“Hey.” He mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Hey.” She returns, sighing. “Um, about what I said last night.”

She sees something flicker through his eyes then, something she doesn’t like.

“You were lonely and needed someone to lean on. I get it.” He says, and she rolls her eyes.

“No Snart.” She says firmly, “I meant it.”

He looks at her almost in surprise then, and so she sits up.

“I just wanted to apologize for jumping you like that. Maybe it wasn’t the best time, or the best way.”

He shrugs as he sits up too, still pressed close to her, so much so that his arms behind her is against her back and she finds she’s leaning into his side.

“Maybe not.” He agrees, “But we don’t seem to have the best track record with timing, do we?”

She chuckles, but despite that his face is still serious.

“I just want to be sure this is what you want.” He tells her, “If you just wanted to blow off steam after the funeral, I’d understand that.”

“That’s sweet Len.” She says, idly grabbing his hand and beginning to toy with his fingers. “But if that was all I wanted I would’ve jumped you the second I got back.”

He grins this time, and gives a little laugh.

“I just…” She trails, trying to sort through her thoughts. “Being at the funeral and seeing everything Laurel left unfinished, and after the close call at The Oculus, I don’t want that for us.”

She can feel the tears starting up in her eyes, and Leonard shifts, and brings that hand that’s been resting behind her up to cup her cheek, is eyes firm and so full of seriousness as he holds her gaze.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead he leans forward and presses and gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

“I don’t want that either.”


	3. Schooled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crypticbeliever123 asked for Captain Canary + 47. “You know I can tell when you’re checking me out, right?”/B. College AU/14. “Five Things” Fic from a three part list!

Leonard can’t wait for this weekend to be over.

The school had all incoming freshmen move in on Friday instead of Sunday with the rest of the school, that way they could host the “Welcome Weekend” which thus far has consisted of the RA’s and a few other staff members forcibly shepherding them all to a variety of ‘fun’ events, uncaring that most people just want to sleep.

Ah well, at least tomorrow the rest of the school moves in and then the staff should have their hands too full to be bothering with all this.

Tonight’s activity is a barbeque on the grounds right outside the dining hall, and if nothing else it’s providing Leonard a good opportunity to see what he’s dealing with for the next four years.

Most kids seemed to have grouped up with either roommates or friends they made during the overnight orientation over the summer, but there are still more than enough stragglers. Athletes are all clumping together too, a good amount of them moved in Wednesday rather than yesterday cause of practices.

Speaking of the athletes, Leonard can’t help but to roll his eyes when he spots Mick heading over to a group of girls.

Well, this should be good.

He’s pretty sure they’re a sport group; they all look athletic and ditzy enough. There’s five of them, and the one Mick is talking to Leonard vaguely recognizes as having been in their orientation group. Amaya, he’s pretty sure her name was. He doesn’t recognize any of the others, but he will admit he’s a little intrigued by the blonde one next to Amaya.

Like the other girls she’s dressed in shorts and a crop top, which cuts off around mid-waist and from this distance he can make out the faint line of a healed scar poking out from underneath. How interesting.

Not to mention, those shorts are hugging her ass perfectly.

He thinks he sees her flick her eyes back at him, but he can’t be sure. He almost is… Maybe it was just his imagination.

* * *

Somehow Mick doesn’t scare Amaya off in the first week and one night while the two of them are eating dinner her and the blonde girl come over to their table with their trays in their hands.

“Can we join you guys?” Amaya asks.

“Sure.” Mick says before Len can protest. He doesn’t even have time to properly glare at Mick before the girls are sliding into their two vacant seats and making themselves comfortable.

Amaya takes the seat next to Mick while her friend slides in next to him. Len scoots his chair over to make room.

“Thanks.” Amaya says as she settles in. “This is my roommate Sara. Sara, this is Mick and Leonard.”

“Hey.” Len says while Mick grunts, and ok, maybe Sara’s eyes aren’t the first place his go when he looks at her. They’re the second place, which he thinks is good enough, and it isn’t like he’s being a creep and staring at her chest.

He’s staring at all of her.

She’s attractive, a good head shorter than he is and built with compact muscle.

“How’s practice?” Mick asks Amaya, and mentally Len officially checks off that he was right on that point. They do sports, and so they’re not going to give him the time of day once they realize he and Mick aren’t exactly pack animals.

“Good.” Amaya says, “Tiring.”

“And painful.” Sara adds in, “I swear, I’ve had my ankle on ice all day and it still hurts.”

Ok, fine, against his better judgment, he’ll bite.

“What do you guys play?” He asks, and while Sara scoffs Amaya giggles, the two of them sharing a look.

“We don’t really ‘play’ anything.” She answers, “We’re on the dance team.”

* * *

College, it turns out, is going to be a very different social scene from high school.

Leonard had assumed he and Mick would keep mostly to themselves, maybe with the occasional exception of Mick going out to a party and him needing to go drag him back to their room. He assumed it would be filled with all the cliques school has been filled with for as long as he can remember, and to an extent it is. But at the same time there are… exceptions.

As expected, there are groups. The nursing students, the athletes, the theater kids, the video game club, the commuters, and the kids like him and Mick who don’t want to join any stupid thing. But then there is something he didn’t account for. Overlap.

There are theater kids who play video games, there are athletes in class with people like him and Mick and want to drag them to parties. Then there are some other athletes who need a quiet place to get work done on the north end of campus before class when her dorm is all the way on the south end.

That athlete would be Sara, in the library, while he’s doing his shift for work-study.

She comes in every day a half hour before her 1:00 class, half a shitty campus cafe turkey sandwich in her hand with the other half in her mouth. She always nods to him as she passes the desk and takes a seat at the study table in the corner. She never wastes any time pulling out her laptop and opening it to a 3D digital model of some sort of human innards. Interesting.

He doesn’t walk by her often, doesn’t have much reason to leave the desk, and she’s only there for twenty minutes each day, but whenever he does venture past her chair to get something from the printer or something else he feels her eyes on him once he’s clear of her. He’d assume it’s nothing more than the human eye being drawn to movement, but one time when he stopped at a shelf he glanced over and she clearly wasn’t anticipating that. She had to scramble back to her work.

* * *

One semester in, and Leonard truly has no idea how it is he ended up here.

He really, _really_ thought Amaya would get tired of Mick in a week or two, and he never thought he would come to li… not hate Sara. Or Amaya. He never thought he and Mick would find themselves in some weird little friend group with two girls on the freaking dance team. Yet here he is, the week before finals and waiting in the wings of the stage instead of studying because Amaya _casually_ mentioned that they needed a few extra hands backstage for the performances this week and the coach was at the point of all but begging the girls to talk their friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, or anyone else they might have wrapped around their fingers, into doing it.

He isn’t sure which he hates more; the fact that Amaya’s first thought at that was Mick, or that him agreeing had nothing to do with Mick and everything to do with Sara saying please.

Whatever, it isn’t like a few hours in the back of the auditorium for the next few days are going to kill him.

For now the stage is set; the box the team needs slightly off center secured and the lights have been checked. The show is starting in five minutes, which means all the girls are supposed to be in the “dressing room.”

Yet Sara’s just poked her head around the side of the curtain.

He raises an eyebrow at her. It’s hard to see in the dim lights of the wings, but he can see the way her eyes land firmly on him.

“Can you help me?” She asks, her voice a soft whisper.

“With what?” He whispers back.

“My zipper’s stuck.”

He screws up his face, simply because _why_ is she back here for that instead of in the other room where she is supposed to be, and where there are eight other girls, and light.

He motions for her to come closer anyway, almost regretting it when she does and turns for him and it isn’t hard for him to make out the outline of her light dress half open and exposing her back.

He puts a hand on her waist to hold her still, and he has to feel a bit for the zipper. He starts trailing it up, easily, so he waits for it to stick-

“I’m quitting.”

He pauses, briefly noting that the zipper has clipped a raised scar.

“Have you told the others?” He brings the zipper up a little more, almost shuddering as his eyes finally notice that there is no bra strap running across her back. “Amaya?”

“No.” Her voice is still a whisper, but this time it’s so soft he almost thinks he hasn’t heard it.

“Why?” He asks, and he zips her in the rest of the way.

She sighs, her whole body appearing to deflate. She turns around, shaking her arms out a little but not much, like she’s doing it because she feels like she’s supposed to and not any actual nerves.

“It’s too much with school.” She whispers, and he nods.

“She’ll understand. They all will.”

“I know.” She murmurs, and she glances over to the stage with a look of longing. “It’s not them I’m worried about.”

Right.

He’s never had an easy life. The only reason he’s in a half decent college is because of a few scholarships and a very insistent mother. He remembers growing up and watching all his friends get to do things he couldn’t for whatever reason, usually money. Robotics had been the hard one. In a push to look better his middle school had secured funding for a robotics program and he’d loved it. But high school had been a different story. They had taken the STEM funding and invested in new chemistry equipment. A lot of the robotics kids transferred to the prep school, and when he couldn’t he didn’t find himself much inclined to hang out with them anymore; no matter how much Barry Allen pestered him.

“You’ll be fine.” He promises, “Mick and I will teach you how to make use of free time.”

She snorts, but there’s a smile on her face.

* * *

Leonard won’t admit a lot of things, and the fact that he is actually happy to be back at school after winter break is at the top of the list. What can he say? Winter break was boring. Sure, he had Mick, and it was great to see Lisa and his mom, but he’s happy to be back here on his bottom bunk, with Sara leaning into his side.

She and Amaya had come over and at some point after drinking half a bottle of vodka Mick and Amaya had gone to the late night café in the center of campus to bring back food.

“Mick better not eat my quesadilla.” Sara murmurs, half asleep against him.

He chuckles, looking down at her and how peaceful she looks with her eyes mostly closed, her hair splaying out on his shoulder-

“Stop it.” She says simply, a small grin on her face, and when he doesn’t say anything she cracks an eye open before laughing. “You know I can tell when you’re checking me out, right?”

Well, if his face weren’t already red, it is now.

She chuckles again, and actually nuzzles herself deeper into his side.

“Don’t worry, I like it.”


	4. A Tale of Two Christmas Eves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested Captain Canary + "We're telling our children about our catastrophic first Christmas together."

Rory is the last to the party and Sara can’t help but to smile with sympathy as the fifteen-year-old flops rather depressively onto the couch. Her eyes are red rimmed and she gives one sniffle, which thankfully neither of her siblings comments on.

Next to Rory is Emily, ten-years-old and while Sara and Leonard thought she was over the trauma that can come with baby teeth falling out this one was, from what Rory and her reported, tough. So she’s sitting with a roll of toilet paper held tightly in her lap just in case.

Daniel, their seven-year-old, somehow came out of this Christmas Eve mostly unscathed. Despite Rory’s reports of him having been standing right in front of the tree when it fell over, and touched the hot pan while she was busy dealing with Emily and her tooth, and had wiped out running down the hall to get her when Emily started bleeding again.

“Ok.” Sara says, now that they’re all gathered. “Now that we’re all calmed down, you’re father and I thought we’d tell you guys a Christmas story.”

“Like the movie?” Emily asks, while Leonard starts passing out some to-go cups of hot chocolate he went out for while Rory took a shower and Sara cleaned up the house.

“Not exactly.” Sara says with a grin, then she eyes her oldest. “You said this is the worst Christmas ever?”

Rory huffs, “Wasn’t until I was put in charge.”

Sara frowns, so does Leonard.

“Rory, I’m glad your mother and I make it look easy, but holidays take practice.”

She scoffs again, her hot chocolate still clutched in her hand.

“They do.” Sara insists, “Which brings us to the story. You guys can ask Uncle Ollie, Rene, or whoever if you don’t believe us, but I promise you everything we’re about to tell you is what happened.”

Leonard nods as he settles onto the armrest of the couch beside her.

“Sorry kiddo.” He says, looking at Rory. “But the mess you made tonight doesn’t even compare to your first Christmas.”

* * *

“So you really want to go home for the holidays?” Leonard asked as he stood Rory up, holding her under her arms and helping her bounce on the mattress.

Sara was packing clothes into two bags, one for each of them. She’d already packed for Rory, enough for a month even though they were only planning for nine days.

“Yes.” She said as she folded up another sweater and added it to the bag. “Thawne and his little crew have been quiet, your holiday coincides with my holiday this year, and neither of our families have met Rory yet. We’re going.”

He rolled his eyes and focused back on Rory, still happy to bounce on the mattress.

He couldn’t find it in him to argue with her further. She was right in that their enemies of the year have been quiet and thus they’ve hit a dead end with finding them, and he isn’t so stupid as to think the next holidays will work out so nicely again any time soon. Not that he’s really done much for Hanukkah in a decade or so, but now with Rory he wouldn’t mind doing more. So, with Hanukkah starting on Christmas Eve this year they’d come up with a plan. Go to her dad’s for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and on December 26th head to Central and stop by her mom’s for the day, then spend the remainder of Hanukkah with Lisa until coming back to the ship on New Years Day.

* * *

So that was the plan, unfortunately there was one major flaw in it they really should’ve considered; just because their villains were taking a holiday break didn’t mean Team Arrow’s were.

“I’m so sorry baby.” Quentin said as he handed Rory back to her and pressed a kiss first to the baby’s cheek, and then to hers.

“It’s ok dad.” Sara said as she took her daughter. “You go. Call us if you need help.”

He didn’t look happy to be going, but he nodded to the three of them and with a hasty promise to be back soon he left.

“You sure your father should be going out to track a mass murderer on Christmas Eve?” Leonard asked and Sara tipped her head back and sighed.

“No, but I’m not going to stop him.”

Leonard hummed, and just as he did Rory gave a little cry.

“Oh, what’s wrong baby?” Sara asked, hiking her daughter up higher in her arms. Rory only began to cry more with that. She sniffed at her diaper but nothing smelled particularly rancid, and she had eaten not too long ago.

“Maybe the time jump wore her out.” She theorized. Rory had taken a nap right before they left, but it wasn’t the longest nap and she was still prone to some disorientation after time jumps.

“I’m gonna put her down.” She informed Leonard, and he nodded, and followed her.

They went into the guest room and Sara paced the room, rocking Rory and murmuring to her whilst Leonard set up the pack-and-play they’d brought along for her to sleep in.

“Shh. Baby.” Sara whispered to her daughter, “Shh, it’s ok. It’s ok.”

While she moved in circles in the room her eyes caught sight of the decorations, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. Her father had moved into this apartment after the divorce, after her death, and since Laurel had already been out on her own this spare bedroom had always been just that, spare. That being said, both she and Laurel had stayed in here over the years and there were little touches of them both. Her father had framed her high school diploma along with Laurel’s law degree. There were pictures of them both, happy and laughing together. She recognized the throw blanket folded at the foot of the bed as one Laurel had bought him one Christmas when she’d been at a loss for anything else to get him and he’d complained that she stole all the blankets in the living room.

“Sara?”

She shook her head and snapped from her thoughts, focus back on the crying baby in her arms and her boyfriend standing next to an assembled pack-and-play, looking at her with mild worry.

“This is the first Christmas since…” She trailed off. From what she’s been told Laurel’s condition was _very_ touch and go for a while after Darhk stabbed her but she finally stabilized. Stabilized but didn’t wake up.

That was back in April.

“Come on.” Leonard said, “Put her down, then let’s see if we can fix your dad a half decent Christmas Eve dinner.”

* * *

A half decent Christmas Eve dinner, somehow Sara didn’t think that was going to happen.

After looking to see what her father had in his fridge Leonard decided to run to the store and he came back with half a pound of hamburger, a box of spaghetti, and some pasta sauce. Spaghetti and meatballs isn’t terrible for Christmas Eve, and it’s definitely something they could manage with limited time.

You know if they didn’t have a baby refusing to sleep on their hands.

“Do you think she has a diaper rash?” Sara asked, currently Leonard was in the guest room trying futilely to calm Rory to sleep while she was in the kitchen rolling the hamburger into meatballs.

“I’ve checked her diaper three times, I think I would’ve noticed a rash!”

She rolled her eyes, and just then she heard a splash and a sizzle. She whirled her head around and cursed under her breath at the sight of the spaghetti starting to boil over. She turned the burner off and then grimaced upon seeing the bits of raw meat now stuck to the dial. While she started to clean up Len came out with Rory in his arms, still crying with no signs of stopping.

“You should’ve waited to start the spaghetti until after the meatballs were done.”

She turned her head to glare at him, to which he merely rolled his eyes and then before he could say anything more her phone began to ring.

They looked at each other, each silently asking who was going to answer the phone. She had raw meat all over her hands, but he had the screaming baby. Eventually Leonard crossed the room but only enough to turn on the sink for her so she could wash off her hands. By the time she was done her phone had stopped ringing but she still pulled a paper towel from the counter and dried them off, the took her phone from the counter and saw she had a missed call from Oliver.

She sighed, even when they were in town Ollie never tended to call with good news.

“It was Oliver.” She informed Leonard, already hitting redial. Len didn’t look too thrilled about it having been Oliver, as he knows just as well as she does-

“Sara?”

“Ollie, hey. What’s up?”

There was a hitch of breath on the other end, never anything good.

“You and Leonard need to come down to the bunker.”

“What, why?”

“Because a few weeks ago one of my recruits sold us out to Prometheus. Prometheus hasn’t made a move on the bunker yet because he knows it’s too risky. We have reason to believe he’s going after someone on the team tonight and-”

And perfect timing.

She saw a glimmer of something in the window and had the phone dropped to the counter and her other hand grabbing a knife before the window crashed in. She threw the knife and ducked, landing next to Leonard curled up under the edge of the counter with Rory in is lap, still screaming.

“You ok?” She asked.

“Peachy.” Leonard seethed and Sara nodded.

She then jumped up and hurled a knife over the counter and across the room, landing it square in the throat of their attacker. She waited a moment, looking at the body clad in something reminiscent of league garb but it never got up, and she knows enough about death to know when someone is faking it.

Slowly, she and Leonard came out from around the body. Their hood had fallen off, revealing a young man whom Sara didn’t recognize, but she wasn’t so naïve as to think he was Oliver’s Prometheus.

He would’ve been smarter, this is just some lackey sent here to send a message.

“Come on.” She said, grabbing her knife from his throat and shaking off the loose blood.

They gathered what they would need for the night and headed quickly to the bunker, where they were each met with a hug from Quentin. Ollie had them call the police and then he went to go handle the getting rid of the body.

“Don’t you need one of us there for that?” Sara asked and Ollie shrugged.

“You were attacked with a baby in the house, the police will understand why you left.”

She smirked at him and then, right as he left, she suddenly realized something very, very important.

She turned around and saw Leonard behind her, a smirk on his face that matched hers in spades.

“It’s quiet.” She said, “How?”

“All I know is I handed her to that kid with the magic rags and she stopped crying. As for the why, I don’t care.”

She chuckled and leaned into his side. He put an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then her father came over.

“Quite the Christmas Eve.” He remarked and Sara smiled.

“Don’t know why we’d expect anything less.” She said, and then she frowned as she thought of something. “Your apartment’s a mess, we were cooking when that guy attacked us.”

Her father laughed, “That’s alright baby. So long as you guys are safe.”

She smiled, and looked past him over to Oliver’s recruit holding Rory, and then she chuckled as she remembered his name is also Rory.

He seemed good with her; she was actually falling asleep by the looks of it. She then looked up to Leonard. He was safe and real and he’d come home with her for the holidays.

As her father walked away, off to take his granddaughter from her new friend, she leaned up and kissed Leonard on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas Crook.” She said, “Sorry coming to my family almost got you killed.”

He chuckled. “No more so than usual.” He said, “Besides, that danger doesn’t end when we get to my family.”

* * *

“You guys were attacked by an assassin on Christmas Eve?” Rory asks, by the end of the story Daniel has fallen asleep on the couch, while Emily is still awake and listening intently.

“You’re surprised by that?” Leonard asks, raising his brow at their oldest, and she doesn’t have a defense ready for him.

So, Emily raises her hand.

“Yes Emily?” Sara asks.

“Why did that man want to kill you?”

“Because he was a bad man.” Leonard answers easily, as this isn’t the first time they’re had this conversation.

Emily nods, satisfied, and Rory huffs.

“Ok, but it wasn’t you guys who ruined Christmas Eve, it was him. The worst you did was let the spaghetti boil over.”

“Ok first, you didn’t ruin Christmas.” Sara says, “Second, the point is the bad guys didn’t come here tonight, and that’s the important part.”

“Exactly.” Len seconds, “We left all three of you here, and we came back to all three of you here, with the only spilled blood being because of a tooth falling out.”  
Rory hums, “You two have really low standards.”

Sara smirks, as does Leonard.

“Maybe.” He agrees, getting up and walking over to the couch to scoop up Daniel. “But I like our standards.”


	5. A New Player

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked for "Captain Canary + Enemies AU"

You know, for a man who can break the sound barrier without breaking a sweat, Barry Allen is becoming awfully boring to fight.

At first the speedster had intrigued Leonard. He was a man who could do the impossible, not to mention he was cute but Leonard learned quickly his observation of that was going to remain as such; as Barry Allen is clearly both straight and head over scarlet heels for Iris West. Pity, but fair. Besides, those things somehow make toying with him all the more entertaining.

Or at least they had for a while.

Lately toying with Barry hasn’t been as fun. Every time it feels like the same song and dance. He steals something, Barry fails to stop him, Barry tracks him down, gives his obligatory speech about how he could be a hero if he so chose, and yadda yadda yadda.

At this point he isn’t bothering to try drawing Barry out when he runs a job in Central, though the scarlet preacher still keeps showing up.

Suddenly a knife cuts across his line of sight, making his breath hitch and his thoughts stop in their tracks.

The knife embeds into the wall he’s leaning against, now paused in his attempt to crack the code on the museum back door.

With only a minor sense that he might regret it Leonard looks up and there is a figure standing about ten feet away from him in the shadows of the corner of the building.

He can’t make out much, but judging by the knife he’s going to take the hint that this isn’t Barry.

“You new in town?” He calls over.

“Just passing through.” A feminine voice calls back, and the figure steps out into the lights of the overhead posts. “Helping out a friend.”

She’s about Scarlet’s age, with blonde hair that is slicked back by gel and a white leather suit with a halter-top. The curious thing about her, though, is her lack of a mask.

All of Barry’s friends wear some sort of mask. Whether it’s him and that stupid cowl, Ramon with his goggles, or the human wad of bubble gum and his eye mask. Even Snow changes her make-up and the color of her eyes.

But this woman isn’t hiding anything from him. She is giving him, and any other potential enemies, a full and unobstructed view of her face.

He would say she were an idiot if her voice weren’t tinted with an edge of darkness you can’t fake, if the smirk on her lips reached her eyes in the way a rookie’s would. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s choosing to do it anyway, and that unnerves him.

His fingers twitch at his side, itching to pull off his goggles against all logic except that she should not be exposing her face. She should not be choosing to expose her face. She should not know the risks and decide they don’t scare her.

“You don’t have the same affinity for masks as your friend.” He finally says.

She’s still walking closer, her hands down by her sides, seemingly not prepared with any weapons. Again, he wants to write her off as stupid, but she has this aura about her that gives him the feeling he would be very, very wrong.

“I don’t need one.” She says, “I’ve been in the darkness long enough.”

Yeah, she definitely knows what she’s doing.

For the briefest moment of weakness he considers bailing out, but he turns the thought away. It’s going to take more than a new player on the scene to scare him off.

“Right…” He drawls, squaring his shoulders and turning away from the keypad for the time being. “Well much as I’d love to hear about all your darkness…”

He doesn’t finish. Instead he pulls out his gun and fires on her. He sees her move, but thanks to the light from the cold gun he doesn’t see where. He finds out though, barely three seconds later, when there is suddenly something hard and strong around his chest, his gun is knocked from his hands, and there’s a blade poised dangerously against his throat.

Well, this certainly breaks up the routine.

“Gotta hand it to Barry.” He says, “Usually by the time Frost gets a dagger against my throat he’s calling her off. How’d you get him to let you out alone?”

“Hm, call me a loan.”

“Pity.” He says, “You’re a lot more fun than the heroes around here.”

She hums again and gives his arm a twist.

“Get out of here and you won’t have to find out just how fun I can be.”

Leonard would prefer to not admit how tempting it is to learn that.

“You said you’re on loan?” He asks, “You know I’m not tied to Central City.”

She laughs this time, her breath warm in his ear, and oh… Oh Iris can have Barry.

She presses her knife deeper, just enough to draw the tiniest amount of blood.

The next thing he knows he’s being shoved away from her, and when he turns around she is already gone.

He looks around, but she’s completely vanished. He brings his hand to his throat to touch the blood there, the only evidence that she was here at all.

He gets the feeling she’s still nearby somewhere, waiting to give him much more than a warning should he continue on with his business.

He gathers up and re-holsters his gun, and starts on his way back to the safe house with a smirk on his face.

This game suddenly just got a little more interesting.


	6. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked for Captain Canary "You were scared? But now, you are safe."

This is.... Very unlike Sara.

She’s been quiet all day. Leonard noticed her go stiff midway through Rip’s detailing of the mission for the day. A trip to visit a scientist in Japan in 2004, and throughout the entirety of said mission he’d noticed she’d been looking around the lab with far more of a wandering eye than usual; almost rivaling him.

She’d refused to look at the scientist too, and needed to be practically shoved forward by Hunter when he’d needed her to talk to him. She’d made her words blunt, with no trace of the charm Leonard has come to expect her to use on marks. Specifically marks they want something from.

Now that it’s all over she’s holed up in her room, and he has had about enough of trying to figure out for himself what’s eating her. He knocks on her door, and receives no answer.

“Assassin?”

“Come in.”

He opens the door, and finds her inside laid out on her bed and staring up blankly at the ceiling.

Her arms are bent up over her head, her hair pulled free of it’s tie, and as he listens he notes a slight static playing at a nearly undetectable hum over the speakers in her walls. White noise.

“You ok?” He decides to go for the direct approach, ambling inside and closing her door behind him.

She doesn’t make much movement, though he notes the frown on her face etches a bit deeper.

Then she doesn’t say anything.

Ok, he is officially concerned.

“Come on.” He drawls, “I know the mission was a bust but-”

“He ran the ship.”

Her words are quiet, deadpanned, and he stops in his tracks.

“The Amazo.” She clarifies, “The freighter I ended up on after The Gambit went down.”

Oh.

She’s told him about that freighter, bits and pieces. She’s told him how it was home to men so horrible they make him and Mick look like model citizens. She’s told him she learned to survive there, made well aware from the get-go by their leader that his protection was the only thing standing between her and a fate as the mens’ “play thing”, or one of his. He feels sick now just thinking about it, and he’s torn between wishing he’d iced that prick earlier today and being grateful he didn’t.

With a sigh she sits herself up, her fingers curling into the edge of the mattress.

“He never hurt me.” She admits quietly, “I was careful to never give him reason to. I did everything he asked, without question. But...”

“But you were always walking on eggshells.”

She nods, “One wrong move and I would’ve pulled the trigger. Seeing him again today, even though he didn’t know me...”

“You were scared?” He doesn’t mean for it to be a question, but the idea of her having been afraid today, at something that was overall fairly low-risk, is hard to believe.

But, he knows a thing or two about ghosts, and what they can to do you.

She nods, her face solemn, and she gives no words.

“Ok...” He drawls stepping forward until he’s in front of her, crouching down so he’s at her eye level. “But now, you _are_ safe.” He promises, enunciating is words, being sure that she hears them. “And you never have to see him again, I promise.”

And he does promise. If for some reason Rip ever needs them to pay that asshole another visit he will make damn sure Sara is sitting out that mission. He’ll also make damn sure to give the guy a good punch, at the very least.

She nods, the movement tiny, and before he can back off he feels her finger toying at the side of his. He opens his hand for her, unsure of what exactly she’s doing but more than willing to let her do it. She ends up wrapping her fingers around his loosely, and giving a gentle tug forward.

He takes the silent request for what it is. She’s still more than a little shaken up, so he moves slow to be sure he’s read this right. He climbs over her onto her bed, more confident as she leans back with him and keeps a now firmer grip on his hand. He settles in beside her, both of them laying down. He keeps the arm with their joined hands over her waist in a protective hold and she settles her head just under his chin.

“Thanks Leonard.” She murmurs and he smirks.

“Anytime Sara.”


	7. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> agentmarymargaretskitz asked for Captain Canary + "You're not safe here."

Sara can feel her stomach churning, and tears burning beneath her eyelids.

She has _hated_ Lewis Snart for a long time now. The only comfort she has ever been able to take with the thought of him is that he is dead, and it was a very painful death.

Or at least, that was his fate before an aberration appeared.

She and Leonard were in the training room this morning, each doing their separate exercises. She’d been going through some of her forms whilst Len had been behind her across the room and hitting the punching bag. Eventually she noticed she hadn’t heard him in awhile, but she hadn’t heard him leave either. When she turned around he was gone, and before she could start looking for him Gideon called her to bridge.

She found out what happened, and immediately she had wanted to throw up.

It was the same thing that happened with Ray on the mission that brought them to the 80’s. There’s an aberration, and a past version of Leonard died.

That aberration? An extra crewmember for Lewis being free on the weekend of a heist because turns out the Time Masters pulling strings had been what kept him away. The heist still failed, but instead of getting busted this extra crewmember was able to get a very ill tempered Lewis out and home free. Where he took out his anger on his pregnant wife, and then his nine-year-old son who ran in to protect his mom and baby sister.

Little Leonard didn’t stand a chance.

Leonard – their Leonard – is back for now, because they’ve traveled back to before Lewis returns home and so the timeline isn’t yet set.

“You ok?”

No, she is not ok.

She’s with Mick, heading to the Snart household to get Little Leonard and his mom out. Their Len is with Ray and Amaya, staking out the heist and making sure the police come early, which they will so long as they act on the tip Zari is sending them.

She glares over at Mick, her expression saying for her how she is very much not ok, and then she sets her eyes forward again.

“His mom is pregnant.” She says as they come up on the house, and Mick hums.

“Yeah.” He agrees, “Time keeps on track, Lisa will be here and pissing everyone off in ‘bout a month.”

“That’s not the point.”

She doesn’t look, but she can feel Mick eyeing her. He gives it a minute, until they’re at the front gate made of rotting white-picket-fence, and he sighs as he nudges it open.

“Believe me Blondie, nothing would make me happier than putting that asshole eight feet in the ground, especially before he hurts Lisa. But if we do that her and Snart become different people.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She mumbles before she can stop herself.

Mick rumbles at the back of his throat and eyes her, but he doesn’t say anything about her choice of words; he knows what she means.

They get up to the front door and he reaches for the knob, but his hand hovers above it, his eyes locked firmly on the door.

“Snart will get his chance.” He says, almost more to himself than to her, before he finally looks at her. “If Lewis shows up here, he made the choice.”

She… She knows he’s right. She still feels sick, and like she isn’t going to be sleeping for a long time after tonight, but he’s right. This is Leonard’s life and his decision. Unless he comes over the comms and tells her otherwise, if Lewis shows up here she won’t kill him; no matter how much she wants to.

Mick opens the door and it creaks open, and right away there’s the sound of movement coming from the kitchen. Its dishes rummaging around, glass, and given the time it’s a safe bet it isn’t a third grade Leonard Snart looking around for a late-night snack.

“I’ll get her.” Mick says, and then nods to the stairs next to them. “You get him.”

She nods; content to let him make the plan this one time, and hurries up the stairs. She doesn’t take enough precaution to keep her footsteps quiet, she wants him to wake up. She does, however, keep them light and quick; because what she doesn’t want is to take the risk he might mistake her for his father.

The upstairs hallway is small, barely five feet long and with two doors on each wall. The first is propped open, a dark bathroom on the inside. The second is closed, but the plush L hanging on it being a soft white color with tiny pink flowers clues her in that it might not be the dwelling of a nine-year-old boy. The next door, however, it has a nameplate with _Leonard_ spelled out on it in crooked stickers and it’s frame is decorated with the images of astronauts and aliens.

She allows herself a tiny smile; letting herself forget for just half a second the reason she is here and instead bask in the peek into Leonard’s childhood.

Then her half-second is over, and with a gentle hand on the knob she turns it and lets herself into the room.

It’s dark, not even the dimmest of nightlights to offer comfort. She wonders, idly, about that. She knows Leonard now prefers to sleep without a hint of light, but she doubts he became that way this young of his own accord.

She decides not to dwell on it, not now anyway. Instead she pads across the room and kneels down next to his bed. His adult self would have heard her by now. He would have opened his eyes; he might even have jumped. But this Leonard is still snoring softly and it breaks her heart that she has to wake him.

“Leo.” She whispers, her hand coming to ghost over his back.

He stiffens, his entire body giving a jolt as is eyes snap open.

“Shh… It’s ok.” She hurries to say. “It’s ok, I know you don’t know me, but I’m a friend of your mom’s. She called me, you guys are going to come with me and my friend for a sleepover.”

God, she hopes little Snart hasn’t been well taught in the art of not getting kidnapped.

He sits up; looking at her in very much the same way her Leonard does when he’s trying to determine where her plan is going to land them.

“Why?”

Her breath hitches as she tries to think of a lie. Except what’s worse is she realizes he’s nine. Leonard has told her Lewis first came after him at the age of eight, and while he didn’t earn himself a permanent scar until eleven, at nine he already knew it was best to avoid daddy when he was angry.

“You’re dad called from work.” She says, watching his eyes for some kind of sign of fear, and she sees it. A flicker, a faint tightening of his body, and it makes her gut twist even more. “Something went wrong tonight, and he’s very angry about it.”

There’s another tightening of his body. His shoulders close in and his eyes flit away from her, and automatically she spreads her fingers out on his back.

“It’s ok.” She promises him, and licks her lips to force herself to continue. “But you’re not safe here.”

He shifts by only the tiniest amount, but it’s towards her, and she needs him to hurry but she doesn’t want to rush him.

“Boss!” Mick’s voice suddenly shouts from downstairs, and Leo jumps where he is. “We gotta move, you coming?”

She looks back to Leo, and she almost wants to call back and see if his mother will yell up that it’s ok, but it’s Mick in charge if getting her. She’s probably unconscious by now.

She dares to put a little more pressure forward with the hand on his back, and he follows it. He lets himself fall into her and wrap his arms around her neck. He’s a little awkward to stand up with and carry, tall enough that he should be walking himself. But she isn’t going to put him down unless she absolutely has to.

* * *

“You didn’t kill him.”

Leonard – her Leonard – looks up at her, and after holding her eyes for a long moment he sighs and puts his partially assembled cold gun on his nightstand.

“Raymond wouldn’t let me.”

She raises her eyebrow, not that he’s looking anymore. His eyes are downcast, his mouth a firm line, and she gives him time but she’s starting to think he isn’t going to elaborate. That’s fine, she can’t expect him to want to share anything. She’s about to bid him goodnight and then go spend the next six to ten hours sharpening her knives and imagine them carving into the flesh of Lewis-

“I couldn’t.”

His words are quiet, so much so that a part of her thinks she might have imagined them. But then he sighs and leans over to the nightstand again, this time picking up his famous deck of cards and beginning to shuffle them mindlessly.

He glances up at her, and she takes the hint and steps into his room and closes the door behind her.

Even so, it’s some time before he speaks.

“I wanted to.” He finally says, “And you know I could’ve gotten through Raymond.”

He finally looks at her with that, waiting for her to acknowledge his attempt at humor, and she gives him a smirk.

Then it’s back to shuffling the cards.

“But… If I had… then I wouldn’t be here would I?”

He brings his eyes back to her, and she looks away.

“No.” She agrees, “You would’ve had a different life.”

A better life, but she doesn’t need to say that.

“No telling what that might have brought.” He acknowledges, “You wipe the memory of little me?”

She nods, “And your mom.”

He nods this time, and gives the cards another shuffle.

“My and Lisa’s childhoods were… awful.” He says, “Not a day goes by I don’t wish things had been different. Getting the chance…”

He trails off, gathering his thoughts, and she’ll give him that. She’ll give him all the time that he needs.

“Lisa’s happy now.” He finally says, “She has Ramon, and all those other idiots. And I…” He swallows, “I have some idiots of my own. Couldn’t risk that.”

She smiles, and she wants to tease him. She wants to taunt that Captain Cold does have a heart and she’ll never tell. Maybe tomorrow she will, but not right now. Right now he has unshed tears in his eyes, and his face is pale. He’s even less likely to sleep tonight than she is.

So she crosses the room and without a word crawls in to sit next to him on his mattress. He scoots enough to give her space, but she still presses right into his side and lays a hand down over his wrist with hardly any weight to it.

“Good.” She finds herself saying, and she runs her fingers up is hand until she dips them between his knuckles. “Because these idiots would be lost without you.”


	8. Valentines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dragonydreams asked for Captain Canary + "Drive-In Theater"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Valentines Day fluff!

It’s rare that Leonard and Sara get a date night, so when a mission in the 50’s wraps up before the sun goes down and the team pesters to hang out a little for a few hours shore leave and a chance to grab some dinner that doesn’t come from the replicator he jumps on the bandwagon. He doesn’t miss the look Sara gives him, but she gives into the team’s demands, and then once they’ve all cleared the bridge she sidles up in front of him with that look of suspicion still on her face.

“You don’t usually care about shore leave in the past.” She reminds him, “You running a side job?”  
He chuckles, she knows him too well after all these years.

“Of sorts.” He allows, placing his hands on her hips. “You and I don’t get much alone time.”

She hums, “We don’t.” She agrees, “Though I think Astra’s planning on staying on the ship. Even with the rest of the team to buffer, the 50’s aren’t very welcoming to her.”

For a moment he lets himself consider that, and if maybe this mini-shore leave isn’t the best idea. Sara must see the thoughts on his face, because she chuckles at him and steps out of his grasp.

“We’re not staying here overnight.” She assures him. “The team’s been cooped up, we’re going to give them time to stretch their legs and grab something to eat. We’ll leave by ten.”

He nods, making a note of that departure time.

“Well we’re not staying on the ship.” He says, and she raises an eyebrow. “Meet me back here at six.”

He walks off with that and a quick kiss to her forehead. He needs to take care of some last minute details before six.

“Date or heist clothes?” She calls after him and he smirks. She really does know him too well.

“Date.”

* * *

Sara isn’t sure what exactly Len has in mind for them as she’s walking onto the bridge a little over an hour after she agreed to a shore leave for dinner tonight. She’d put on a loose fitting black and white checkered dress; something comfortable enough and still era appropriate. Len’s waiting for her in the same business suit he wore earlier today, minus the vest and the tie. He’s watching her with a gleam in his eye she knows well by now, a gleam that means he’s thinking about something yet to come.

“Should I have gone with leather?” She asks teasingly as she approaches him.

“I would’ve told you.” He says, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

Oh, he’s definitely up to something.

“Come on.” He says, cocking his head towards the door. “We don’t want to miss the show.”

Now that could mean a great many things, and the “borrowed” car he has stowed outside the ship doesn’t narrow it down all that much. When he drives them outside of the city and to a drive in theater she rolls her eyes, but waits until they’re parked and he has the speaker plugged into the car’s radio to say anything.

“So, we’re here to actually watch the show?” She asks as he adjusts the aux cord.

“More or less.” He answers, “This movie _is_ a classic, but if you’d rather catch up on some other things…”

She snorts; of course he would put it like that. ‘Catch up’, like sex is a chore they’ve fallen behind on.

Which, admittedly, they have.

“What’s the movie?” She asks, pretending to consider watching just for the fun of working him up.

He seems a little surprised by her question, but he shakes it away easy enough.

She’ll just have to try harder.

“It Happened One Night.” He answers, “Special Valentines Day showing.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

He snorts, “Relax.” He says, “Our Valentines Day isn’t for another two months, we just happened to land here today.”

She breathes out in relief. Admittedly she isn’t always the best at keeping track of the present day calendar. Sure, important things they have to go home for she can keep track of, but little events like Valentines Day have fallen off her radar once or twice before.

They watch the first couple minutes of the movie. It’s old even for this era, but it’s still entertaining enough. The plot is simple, rich girl runs away from marrying rich boy, meets a guy who isn’t rich but likes her, they get stranded together, and so it goes.

At one point Sara notices an actual smirk on Leonard’s face at one of the jokes and she laughs to herself, she should’ve known he was brining her here to actually watch the movie.

She’s tried distracting him during movies before, or even just tried putting one on with no intentions of paying attention to it; it never works. No matter the subject or plot, Leonard always pays close attention.

She’d asked him about it once, if he’s capable of ever just ignoring a movie playing. He’d shrugged and told her maybe, if he really tried, but isn’t the point of that too not have to try? He thinks it’s a result of all his years as a thief. He could never have background noise while planning a heist, and he couldn’t bring himself to watch movies or TV much while laying low because he always needed to be listening for incoming police. His attention is wired to be given fully, not with something idle.

“What’s going on in your head?”

His sudden question jerks her attention back to him and out of her thoughts, and when she finds he’s staring at her she starts laughing.

“Thinking about how you can’t ignore a movie.”

He hums, a glint in his eyes and a smirk on his face she knows isn’t directed at the movie this time.

“I can when motivated.” He says, and she raises an eyebrow.

“Really?” She asks, “Because I’ve tried motivating you before.”

He shifts in his seat, turning to face her completely.

“Well this time I planned on it.” He drawls, “Open the glove box.”

That throws her, if only a little bit. She eyes the glove box suspiciously, but reaches forward and undoes the latch. She also notices a hitch to his breath as he watches her, and when she’s opened the small compartment she can see why.

Inside is a box from a jewelry store. It’s small, made with black velvet, and while she’s no expert she’s fairly certain it didn’t come from this era.

She eyes him curiously as she opens the box, and now it’s her breath that hitches. Inside the box is a simple silver ring with a square diamond set in the center.

“I thought about asking you during battle, seemed a little more our style, but then there was a risk of one of us dropping the ring.”

That’s what he says, but she can see the wavering nerves in his face. Sure, in the heat of battle might be more their style, but she knows him. Things like this he likes to try and keep special, and private.

She puts the ring to the side of the seat and his eyes follow it, until she’s framing his face with her hands and pulling herself closer, grinning widely.

“Yes.” She says, and she catches sight of him smiling before she’s closed the distance between them completely.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt me over on Tumblr @firesoulstuff, I am always posting prompt lists!


End file.
